Yea, I have looked, and seen November there; The changeless seal of change it seemed to be, Fair death of things that, living once, were fair; Bright sign of loneliness too great for me, Strange image of the dread eternity, In whose void patience how can these have part, These outstretched feverish hands, this restless heart?

Free men must live simple lives and have simple pleasures.

I do not want art for a few any more than education for a few, or freedom for a few.

Art made by the people for the people, as a joy to the maker and the user.

A pattern is either right or wrong...it is no stronger than its weakest point.

Ornamental pattern work, to be raised above the contempt of reasonable men, must possess three qualities: beauty, imagination and order.

There is no excuse for doing anything which is not strikingly beautiful.